Manhunt
by Vickie1
Summary: Four Alliance marines have been killed in the last 72 hours. With a possible fifth, the lead investigator arrives to the Citadel to find the killer, only to cross paths with Commander Shepard. And to her allies' surprise, they are very well acquainted.
1. Prologue: Sub Rosa

**Disclaimer: **I do not know ME except for a few things in this fic. :)

**/""/ **means talking over the commlink.

* * *

**Manhunt**

**Prologue:**** Sub Rosa**

Copia District.

The industrious commercial section of the Arcturus Station, people constantly working to earn a good day's pay. The only time the district could ever be empty was past the work hours. In the minutes of opening on an early morning, individual stalls opened, communication hubs were switched on and docks maintained to precise for arriving and departing starships. Even a minority of foreigners took the liberty to stay in the human space station for commerce by giving out to what the locals saw as impressive 'souvenirs', each selling over one or two thousand credits. There was never a dull moment in the district.

The coffee was hot and strong, just the way he liked it.

The gray-haired man in his later years stood close to a pillar amidst the crowd, the warm cup nestled within his fingers. He blended well among the civilians from the many years of experience in a career such as his. No one was the wiser to tear away the layers of his covert as they passed by. They went on like they would do on a normal day: two young women gossiping away with the latest rumors, a salarian tourist feeling out of place as he tried to figure out the station's directory and an elcor vendor selling toy model ships with a weekly store discount.

His eyes hawked about the sea of people surrounding him. He needed just one face. One face with a distinct marking that separated the bearer from the rest and that was enough to tackle.

They only had one chance.

/"It's been two hours, Boss. You sure this guy's coming?"/ A voice echoed into his ear.

The gray-haired man gazed up at the upper deck. Leaning against the balcony was an agile man in a clean suit, poised in his prime years. He lowered his shades down the bridge of his nose and observed vigilantly at the crowd below him.

"He'd better be, Walker," he replied. "Or Lopez will get more than just a deal."

/"Yeah, but c'mon. For all we know, this is probably another goose chase. Heck, Owen might have screwed up and this guy's skipped town by now."/

/"Hey, I did not screw up,"/ another voice argued in its defense. In the far corner of the plaza sat another man, younger and yet more professional-looking than Walker. If professional was the right word for his case, as he was but a rookie beneath his smart clothing. /"This district is where his calls were traced and the plaza is the only place where communication hubs are online for the public. The data isn't wrong."/

/"Says the tech geek."/

/"Ignore him, Owen."/ Opposite of Walker on the second floor stood a woman, speaking in a pure Greek accent. Unlike the women in the plaza that adorned themselves with fashionable dresses, she wore more suitable clothes for running with her long brown curls tied up. /"You've never made a mistake before."/

/"Thank you, Sofia."/

/"Ooh!"/

/"What?"/ the woman named Sofia spoke out attentively. /"Is he heading to the rendezvous point?"/

/"No, not that. New lingerie,"/ droned Walker like a schoolboy as his eyes locked on a particular stall. /"I bet they have your size, Sofia."/

/"Real mature, Cole!"/ she hissed. /"You should be glad I don't shoot you right now."/

A cocky smirk stretched on his face from afar. /"You know what your problem is? You're always uptight. You should be more relaxed and bendy like my girlfriend-"/

"Walker," the gray-haired man called. "What the hell are you doing? You're undercover, not shopping for gifts to blindfold a woman."

/"Technically, Boss, I'd prefer to give an expensive bouquet of flowers on the first date. Only on the third date, I'd buy a nice sway from–"/ One look at his unhappy superior below immediately silenced him from continuing the sentence further. /"You don't need to know that. Shutting up, boss."/

A chuckle escaped but at once was sealed shut in the woman's mouth when she received a glare from Walker.

She cleared her voice and changed the topic. /"But really, he is right. It has been two hours. Are we even sure he's going to come?"/

"He'll come," the gray-haired man assured over the commlink earwig and took another slip.

"–is not clear why the VI malfunctioned in the training base on Luna. Alliance military has informed the media that the problem has been dealt with but revealed no further information. The Alliance is also arranging a memorial service for seventeen marines who died on Luna. In other news–"

The loud announcement on the large news screen that centered in the plaza drew the old man's attention upwards to see an image of a young woman in her late twenties and a military armor, auburn hair cut short under the ears with most of the fringe draped down one side. Her face was expressionless to all – having a distinctive scar slid across her left eyebrow – such as the standards for a photo of an Alliance marine didn't require one to smile in it. But her green eyes strongly displayed their diligence and composure.

"Reporter Khalisah al-Jilani's interview with Commander Shepard several days ago has intrigued many positive responses from Earth and the Arcturus Station. While Shepard disclosed details regarding her current assignment when confronted, she stated that she is privileged to join the Spectres and humanity is now part of the Citadel Council, in equality to all races. This shows that she is indeed the right woman as the first human Spectre."

The old man smirked. He had remembered watching the woman on the screen speak out her words carefully but in an unprejudiced manner three days ago. A virtuous and refined reaction to a probing reporter it was that impressed him. It would have been better though, if the reporter had not ambush her with irksome questions in hopes to exploit the human Spectre right in front of the camera.

Personally, he would have told the reporter to back off if push came to shove. Even if millions of viewers were watching him.

Apprehension gradually replaced the beam. He had the right to be half pleased and half worried. Pleased that the woman knew how to talk well in front of the parasitic media without giving them reason to lash onto her for exposition. After all, she had learnt from the best.

Worried to hear that she was on a dangerous mission. And to make the pitting feeling in his gut worse, he could not get more details on what the mission was. Just rumors of pursuing a rogue Spectre.

He heaved a deep sigh before indulging himself to another slip.

Now wasn't a good time to be distracted.

His eyes floated back to the encircling crowd, darting from one walking station dweller to another. Each was going on with their daily lives, oblivious of a secret objective.

/"Boss, target spotted. Entering from the South Wing,"/ Owen alerted over the comm.

The old man ceased from turning his head to the south, a tactic he knew all too well not to give away his position. He allowed only his eyes to move and identify. One shabby character arrested his interest as the scrawny stranger hid his head under a cap. However, there was no point to conceal his face. Just a look at a gang tattoo on his open neck and a scar across his nose from an old injury long ago were enough for a positive ID.

/"Want us to take him down now, Boss?"/

"Negative," the superior responded to Walker. "We need his contacts."

The foursome watched as the nervous target chipped his credits into a hub and dialled in the numbers with a trembling finger. Waiting for his caller to pick up, he peered over his shoulders many times. Luckily, he wasn't observant enough to see away from the obvious, the four pairs of eyes deadlocked on him.

_Click!_ The call went through. The gray-haired man brought out his Omni-tool and hit a key, amplifying his earwig up by a notch.

/"This is Lu."/

/"You shouldn't be calling this line."/

Unfortunately, the conversation that the group of four were eavesdropping couldn't give them a clue to the suspicious man's contact. The voice was muffled with a deep pitch from the other end of the connection.

/"Voice distortion device. Should have seen it coming. You getting this, Rookie?"/

/"Yup, got it, Cole,"/ Owen replied and began tapping away at his Omni-tool.

"How long to get an ID, Gibson?"

/"Just need a moment to get one as long as he stays connected, boss. Whoever he's calling, it's not a private line so I have to trace this manually."/

The old man continued the observation, examining the anxiety on their target's face as he persistently twitched his foot while looking about. Of course he had the right to be nervous, cautious that he could be watched.

/"Those tecs are sticking their noses too close. My contact wants to know when the Syndicate's getting paid,"/ the target demanded.

/"Tell your boss in due time. _Azrael _still has one more task to do, which I'm sure they'll be more than happy to do."/

/"Well, that one, he says, is gonna cost extra."/

/"That doesn't sound good,"/ exclaimed Sofia over the comm. /"Another hit job."/

/"Better pick it up, Rookie."/

/"Can't pinpointed the exact location but it's somewhere in the station."/

/"Not good enough, Owen."/ Patient was not a virtue for Walker.

/"I'm trying my best here. He must be using a Chameleon Tool to conceal the site."/

/"Heh. Looks like there's someone smarter than Owen."/

/"Look, we want to be paid now for those four!"/ the target persisted, more restless than before when told that complete payment would be done after the _'fifth'_. /"The boss says _Azrael_ needs more supplies if he's going to take out that one."/

/"Is that for him or for your organization?"/ his caller questioned.

/"Hey! You came to us to make this deal. My boss wants to be insured it's genuine before he sends _Azrael_. Cuz this marine isn't like the others–"/

The target stopped. His eyes bulged. His mouth dropped ajar with fright.

The old man frowned but not out of disappointment. The target was staring at one person amongst the sea of civilians: at him. His cover had been blown but that wasn't what the superior was concerned. He realized so on his target's face.

The target knew who he was the second he saw him.

The coffee cup dropped to the floor, gushing out its black liquid. With an instant, the target hightailed out of the plaza, the old man chasing after him with a pistol in hands.

As said before, there was never a dull moment.

"Suspect heading to the docks! Gibson! With me!" the gray-haired man yelled as Owen joined him in the chase, swapping his Omni-tool for his handgun. "Floros! Walker! Cut him at the turbolifts!"

/"We'll on it!"/

Their target dashed fast, cutting through the crowd with either a zigzag or a forceful shove at a tumbling by-stander. But the gray-haired man was fast for his age, surprisingly much faster Owen Gibson. He did not halt when an obstacle stood in his way in the form of a shaken or livid passerby but merely dodged and sprinted onwards without hesitation.

Gibson huffed and puffed from behind but did his best to keep up.

/"Alliance agents! Move! Move!"/ Walker yelled. One obstacle had surely stood in his and Floros' way.

A disadvantage for them. An advantage for the target, nearing the docking bays. The suspect incredibly darted past security before the two men guarding realized one managed to slip pass through but their notice soon went to the duo holding guns.

"Stop! Alliance security!"

"Alliance agents! Now get out of the way!" the gray-haired man snapped with a flash of his badge, making the stunned guards hop aside.

He cursed under his breath. They have lost valuable time by several seconds.

The two agents persuaded, evading today's arrivals of humans, asari, salarians and turians. That was said the same for their suspect, much further deep in the departure area. The gray-haired leader managed to get a small glimpse of their runaway, entering No. 83 Bay. Only halfway across the hall were they joined by Walker and Floros.

The old man arrived at the bay first, only to succumb to defeat as he gritted his teeth. His younger associates caught up a second later.

The agents watched as a passenger starship had already undocked itself out of the bay and was already out into space. Their suspect was gone, aboard the ship and in a matter of seconds beyond Arcturus Station's mass relay.

"We need to notify the tower that they have a criminal onboard!" Sofia Floros suggested.

"It'd be too late by then. Where's that ship heading?" the gray-haired man demanded.

Gibson mentally suppressed the burning pain in his lungs and operated on his Omni-tool. "Um, the destination is to the Citadel."

"What now, Boss? Should we call for a ship and go after him?" Cole Walker asked.

No answer.

"Boss?" he called.

All three looked over their shoulders and found their team leader gone. Floros was the first to spot him racing to another passenger ship – much smaller than the first – ready to take off.

"He isn't doing what I think he's–?"

Walker and Floros glanced at each other. They both knew the answer to Walker's question. Their boss had an idea and it was a crazy one. Without a second spared, they ran again towards the starship. Gibson slugged his shoulders and moaned tiredly to see the chase was far from over. Nonetheless, he too ran.

They were indeed right about one thing. The idea was crazy but solid.

The old agent slipped into the airlock before the small ship's door shut close. However, his sudden appearance into the passenger ship startled two asari stewardesses.

"Argh!" one of them screamed at the sight of the pistol.

"Call security–!"

"Alliance special agent," the old man declared, again flashing his badge to calm them down. "Is this vessel going to the Citadel?"

"Y-Yes! Yes, it is," the stewardess replied.

"Take me to your captain. A fugitive is on the run and I need to get there as soon as possible!"

"R-Right! Follow me."

As she showed the agent to the cockpit, the final arrangements were made and the heavy locks outside detached themselves from the ship. Like the first, the vessel slowly drove its way backwards from the bay, much to the trio's dismay.

"Boss!" Walker yelled, still running despite the fact that he and his team members would soon reach the end of the docking bay.

It was already too late. The ship had sealed its door airtight, undocked itself and soared to the outsized exit of the docks where space greeted it openly.

"BOSS!"

The ship's engines had long deafened Walker's shouts before it disappeared into the starry atmosphere. Finally, there were no loud noises in the bay. Only the sound of heavy breathing from the three agents while they stared into space and the mechanical buzz they could hear on their earwigs a minute later. Contact between them was now improbable for short-range connection.

Their boss had already left the star system.

"The director isn't going to like this," uttered Walker.

A frustrated frown was all Floros could give to the senior agent at the remark. She glared at him with only two words to jeer.

"You think?"

* * *

**Author's Note:** My first ME fanfic and a prelude to another in my head. But for now, I'm starting with this one as a challenge to a question of mine. And that, you shall learn what later in this fic. Expect a lot of action and thriller in this one, especially something you all would least expect. Sadly, no romance until probably the second fanfic.

In addition, I like to dedicate this prologue and the next few to a very good friend and writer, J. for not only helping me on a few bumpy parts but being supportive. And I'd also like you all to read and review her ME fanfic too, "Uncharted".

Now then, please go click on "Review this chapter" and review while I attend to finish the next chapter in a couple of hours or a whole day. :D

Tecs: Slang for Alliance agents & cops


	2. Chapter One: Not Invincible

**Disclaimer:**I do not know ME except for a few things in this fic. :)

**/""/ **means talking over the commlink.

* * *

**Manhunt**

**Chapter One: ****Not Invincible**

Solcum. The largest moon of the gas giant Notanban.

And the only moon in the Grissom System of the Armstrong Nebula, where three planets and two asteroid belts encircled the system's star.

Rich with various metals and deposits of sodium, the crust was obscured by a midnight blue color with definite craters larger than that on Luna in the home system of humans. A gaze up to the brilliant black sky, one would be in awe to see the waxing gibbous phase of the neighboring planet so close that they could reach out a hand and touch it.

Two drawbacks that made the moon almost inhabitable were the unsuitable atmosphere of krypton and xenon, and the scorching hot surface, thoroughly irradiated by the blue sun. If an outsider had landed on the moon and didn't take refuge in a base or ship, the high temperature of over three hundred degrees would unhurriedly cook him from the inside of his protective spacesuit in a matter of minutes. His internal organs would simmer first before his suit would be melted into his skin hours later.

Of course, the heat hazard wasn't the main concern for three visitors.

"Fire in the hole!"

The quarian and turian agent ducked for cover at the warning as the tiny disk-like grenade glided over them and glued onto the torso of their enemy. It detonated in less than a second, bringing down four geth in a volatile burst of flames.

More, however, charged throughout the mercenary base from the other side.

Swung from the back, the Volkov sniper rifle unfolded hastily and its rail was rested on a crate. One geth fell into view of the crosshairs.

_"–No, munchkin. You got it all wrong. Don't focus too much on the target. The bullet doesn't travel straight. You got to account for wind direction and speed to hit the bullseye. If it was indoors, then it's a lot easier–"_

**PEW!**

Direct hit.

A slug completely destroyed its circuits as the machine plopped to the metal floor. A fresh one was reloaded and again another geth was aimed.

It had no chance.

**PEW!**

"They never learn to quit, do they?" Garrus Vakarian exclaimed as he took aim at a Stalker on the ceiling.

One hit right at its eye and the sentient being with appendices of a swift gecko dived down with its head cracked open on impact. Its metallic corpse blocked the way of one Trooper.

"Why would they? They're machines." Tail'Zorah nar Rayya held out her shotgun and let the slugs fly.

Two more geth swayed their weapons over the balcony on the second floor. The two alien comrades, too concentrated on the opponents in front of them, didn't realize guns pointed down at their alcove. However, the geth also didn't realize they were already spotted.

The crosshairs immediately captured one opponent. Its white headlight soon noted the gleam of the scope, drawing its attention away from the easy pickings, only to see eye to eye at its hidden shooter.

There was little time for it to react and duck.

_"–this time, squeeze the trigger. Don't tap on it–"_

**PEW!**

One dropped. The other glanced to its right in alert.

Fatal mistake.

**PEW!**

It joined its inactive friend behind the balcony.

The scope returned back to where it originally was: aiming at the remaining geth on the first floor. No matter how many times they fired back at the wielder, it took just one to hit a vital area on each geth.

_"–There are many ways to take down an enemy, munchkin. A leg or two means you immobilize them. Arms mean you remove their weapons. Headshots can be necessary for hostile situations. And whatever you do, don't aim at the heart–" _

The numbers kept piling as another two entered into the large open lot from a room in the far back. Now firing missiles.

Garrus quickly dashed and slid to another spot behind more crates, not just for a better viewpoint but to evade an incoming and dangerous projectile heading at his old position. Had he stayed, he would have been gone along with his barricade.

Destroyers, harder to take down and more firepower were needed.

**PEW!**

A shot louder than those of the two comrades disrupted amidst the noises as the motorized leg of one Destroyer was smashed. With a wave of her arm, Tali targeted the descending geth with a tech power and overloaded its system.

Without warning, it blew up, giving damage to the other. One more left, easily taken down by another five rounds to its torso and head.

Or so they thought when Tali spotted another Destroyer coming towards the turian's opening.

"Garrus!" warned the quarian. "Look out!"

At once, at the corner of his predatory eyes, the geth fell into his view but his reaction time was slow. Even if he veered his pistol to his enemy, the shots he fired only reduced its shield. Even if he could leap away, he would be fatally wounded as the firearm in the geth's arms raised up and took aim. He wouldn't be able to make it to safety in time.

His mandibles flared at his ill-timed dilemma.

_"–Because some enemies you'll face can have more than one."_

**PEW!**

Its mechanical eye popped out as a slug drilled into the geth's head in a clean and swift angle. With a loud thud and a battering of its motherboard, it collapsed but remained far from destroyed as its limbs jolted with some residual juice left. It wouldn't be long until the light faded from its nearly-damaged eye.

Garrus glanced over his shoulder at his savior. Tail did the same, standing up from her cover.

The sniper rifle folded back to its initial stage as she swung her trusted weapon onto her back. She arose from her position – good to dodge flying slugs and to aim precisely within a wide open range of sight – and stood forward like any natural leader would.

"Thanks, Commander," said the turian gratefully. "A second longer and I would have been a goner."

The auburn-haired human infiltrator glanced at her allies with unflinching green orbs.

"Don't mention it," she spoke as she walked out of her vantage point. "Any injuries?"

"Minor grazes but nothing severe to my suit," Tali informed. "We shouldn't need to waste medi-gel on a few scrapes."

The commander wasn't convinced otherwise as she drew out a salve pack and tossed it to the quarian. "Tali, we have plenty and I don't want us to take any chances. No matter how small a wound is, it can prove fatal in a mission if not treated."

"Yes. I understand, Commander." The quarian nodded and took half of the pack into her omni-tool to disperse the all-purpose medical gel onto herself while throwing the rest at Garrus. He no doubt needed it more for a deep scratch on his cheek.

It was then he observed the obvious in front of him. Through years of being thorough on any evidence that approached his keen eye, the investigator noted that their commanding officer before them had no fresh wound or terrible dents in her suit, compared to those on him and Tali. He noted that not once, since Shepard welcomed them onto the _Normandy_ as part of her crew, had she used the medi-gel on herself for negligible damage. And it wasn't because of her shields ensuring her security or her first-rate skills of a specialized sniper that prevented most harm taken in from firing rounds, biological manipulation of dark energy or technical attacks.

Always, she'd use one for her teammates, both for minor and major pain. Never for herself unless as a last resort, which it was but a very rare occasion.

The only thing that indicated she ever had a ruthless wound was the scar on her eyebrow.

"You know, out of all the missions we've been on, you always come out unscathed while the rest of us end up with either holes, blood lose or broken bones. Almost like you're invincible," Garrus laughed.

"Invincible? No." A soft chuckle escaped from the commander's stretched mouth. "I guess I had the best teaching me the ropes."

All three were unaware as the last few twitches on the subjugated geth's limbs flinched before it would completely 'expire'.

"Would that be your mentor?" Tali asked.

Silence was allowed for a minute. Given that question, Shepard thought for an answer carefully. Of course, by 'mentor', that would be Captain Anderson from the beginning to the end of her N7 training.

However, for her military training just after high school, it unexpectedly wasn't the tutor she was assigned to back then.

"…Not exact-"

Before Shepard could finish her sentence, the flashing white light in the broken eye on the floor finally died out. That was the complete end of the fallen geth.

And at once, the start of a woeful but ingenuous composition immediately played at full volume throughout the base in tune to the last geth's expiration.

Alerted, all three raised their weapons. But where was the music coming from? There was nobody on the balcony above them or on the first floor. Only they stood alone, backs against backs, looking cautiously for any target that would materialize from anywhere with the ambushing advantage to gun them down. With no danger in sight, the squad lowered their weapons to a level but but did not draw them back.

Tali was the first to speak as she listened more profoundly to the melody.

"This song..."

"Do you know it, Tali?" Shepard questioned.

"Sort of. It sounds like a lyric my people usually plays on the Flotilla but... this is different."

"It's coming from the back room," Garrus pointed out.

The two gazed at the commander, awaiting new orders.

"Keep you guard up and move out," she instructed. "We don't know if there are more geth _inside _or _outside_."

Her allies agreed in respond and held their weapons again at gunpoint as the trio strolled warily to the door at the far back of the base.

As they neared the room, the turian agent swung himself to the side of the entrance. A nod from the commander gave him clearance to hit the button and the door slid open.

Shepard darted in first and scanned about the interior.

No geths. No surprise attack.

"Clear," she hollered and waved her backup to enter.

One terminal caught their attention with its flickering screen and the origin of the broadcasting music. On the monitor, they watched a quarian – wearing an attire different from Tali, perhaps holding an olden symbolic meaning to all – standing before a hushed crowd as the quarian warbled a mournful voice of worlds and innocence lost.

Withdrawing the shotgun, Tali wandered closer to the geth terminal in awe.

"I can't believe it…" She glanced up at Shepard. "The background, the clothes… This vid might have dated back to when the geth forced my people off our homeworld."

"Huh. I'm surprised it survived after 300 years," Garrus exclaimed.

"I'm actually more surprised the geth had this. But it could be that they had this recorded into their memory banks and kept it all these years. Shepard, if I may, I want to record this in. It might be what I need for my Pilgrimage. Or at least, something useful for our primary mission."

"...Alright," Shepard answered, after some serious thinking. "But Tali, whatever is here, I have to take it to Alliance control. It's procedure."

Behind the mask, Tali was reluctant. Whatsoever was in the terminal of her people's prolonged enemy was possibly worth much to be accepted as a Pilgrimage gift, satisfying many to welcome her back. Perchance, it may finally end their long wait in regaining back their stolen home world. To be told that the information was to be taken by Shepard and uploaded to a representative body of all humanity in the Milky Way, any quarian would immediately reject the idea.

She gradually nodded.

There was no reason for her to rebel, not to the one who had not only the back of the crew but also hers since she became a member of the _Normandy_, a most reliable ally in the pursuit of Saren.

And she did say the chase to stop the infamous rogue Spectre was above all more important than her Pilgrimage.

"I understand." Instantly, her fingers fell onto the key panel. After a couple of inputted sequences, she jerked her head. "That's odd."

"What?"

"It seems that the recorded song is being dispatched to… beyond the Perseus Veil."

As the last notes ended and the held-out arms of the elder quarian on the screen closed down to a prayer, static suddenly disrupted the image.

"That can't be good," said the turian.

"No... No! No! No!"

No matter how frantic Tali was, tapping agitatedly to halt the power failure, it was a losing battle. The transmitter shut down without giving her a chance to rescue anything within its database.

The blackness assured that the vid was completely gone.

"Keelah!" Hands spread out, she slapped the key panel with frustration. "This is not happening…! Maybe I can reboot the system and–"

"Give it a rest. There's nothing we can do now."

Garrus' words were harsh in a manner but they were the truth. Through the mask, Tali sighed with misery over the losing chance of bringing a gift to the Flotilla. She then swept it aside with the clear optimism she would find another, possibly after their mission.

The commander stared at the terminal, one finger hooked over her mouth. They have come this far, taking down four geth outposts on various planets of the Armstrong Nebula, based on a direct transmission by Admiral Hackett. With the last one destroyed, her squad soon came to the conclusion that a signal transmitting to it had been coming from somewhere inside the cluster, thus leading them to the moon. But now, only to leave the base empty-handed…

_No, there has to be something else_, she thought to herself. She could feel it.

Relying on a gut feeling was what some would think was amateurish, a risky effort that could lead to a deadend.

However, as she was taught, it was best to never doubt the feeling.

"Wait." Shepard drew out her omni-tool and waved over the terminal.

The screen once again flickered with light but showed nothing except codes running from the bottom upwards. Minutes passed by, aggravating the young quarian's disappointment further. A conclusion came to mind that the omni-tool was picking nothing but useless back-up data.

The omni-tool made a sound and Shepard examined the information received. "The vid is lost but there's something else. The geth put up quite a firewall to protect it… There."

The hacking was done with no complications. Of course, while she had experience in technical equipment, she lacked the high dexterity to hack in under seconds. Tali was excellent in that field while Garrus had his fair share in decryption. That would have been said if they hadn't overlooked the terminal.

"It looks like encrypted geth data files."

"So this mission is a complete success after all," proclaimed Garrus. He then scanned the surroundings, which nothing caught his attention or seemed necessary to their assignment. "Doubt there's anything else worth our time. We should head back to the _Normandy_."

A nod of acceptance to the suggestive idea. "Joker, be ready to pick us up. We're on our way to the Mako."

/"Roger, Commander,"/ the pilot of the _Normandy_ hollered over the comm.

"Move out," was the final order to the squad.

* * *

Shepard exited out of the engineering section and boarded onto the elevator. She had given permission to Tali to make a copy of the encrypted geth data files salvaged from the geth base. In the proper hands, they could reveal much about the evolution of the geth since the banishment of the quarians but it would take years to decrypt them for a breakthrough.

Tali deserved the information for her Pilgrimage because of the many worthy things she has done and by her oath, she would reimburse the great debt – one that she could never repay in value – by promising to stay until Saren and his geth army were defeated.

And Shepard could not ask for more.

The commander led against the wall, waiting for the elevator to reach the second deck. Now there was another pressing issue to attend to.

Before hearing word of a possibly geth attack in the Armstrong Nebula, and several other small assignments thrown from the Alliance and other contacts, the _Normandy_ had boarded the small, frozen terrestrial world called Noveria. Word was that a treacherous turian had sent Matriarch Benezia, a powerful ally, to a research station somewhere blanketed by the planet's thick and arctic weather. And to discover an enormous hive of surviving rachni running amok and taking almost every inch of the station in havoc, it did not make the situation any trouble-free. To add to the building tension, Shepard freed a rachni queen out into the open universe.

Pity was not what swayed her to decide freedom over acid. Partly the broken yet intellectual words _telepathically _spoken from the queen via a dying asari commando were at play, digging at the commander's sympathy but it wasn't the entire reason.

Slaying the giant alien insect into the blackness beyond dreams was nothing but a repeated act from the old wars.

History should not be repeated again; another lesson that echoed in her mind before the decision.

The squad who assisted her then was against it – Wrex angrily believing that the human had gone crazy. However, out of all the decisions she has made since the beginning of the ship's voyage across space, no matter how downright mad the choices were to some of her teammates, they were never wrong by the upright commander. And the members never questioned the reasoning she gave for those choices.

A paragon to heart.

She could only hope the queen would not change her mind too easily, giving the fact that the insect-like race had supposedly been wiped clean by the krogans.

But that was done. She made her choice and did not regret it. Even so, if a pang of guilt was to creep up to her, she could not permit it to affect her focus. Not with Saren still out there. Not when she now had no lead to go from the current point.

They found nothing that would link to Saren's whereabouts or the location of the Conduit at Noveria and after giving her report to the Council, it was clear they themselves also had no further knowledge as well.

Hearing no new reports from them, Shepard decided for the time being to complete two or more assignments she left aside previously. She had believed in about a day, the Council would contact her with up-to-the-minute information. A day later, Admiral Hackett informed her of the geth incursions and she wasted no time to check.

She thought they'd have better luck while taking out the geth outposts, believing that they would unearth a clue to Saren's next destination. However, as it turned out, the unreceptive activities weren't related to his intention of wiping out all forms of sentient life.

And the lack of evidence made her feel anxious. It has been forty-eight hours since Noveria, undoubtedly giving the rogue Spectre two more steps ahead of her. Perhaps closer to the Conduit.

For once, the commander has found herself at an impasse and she did not like it.

Soon, she would have to pick a destination rather than allow the ship to wander aimlessly throughout the star systems.

If only a sign could be given to her right this minute…

/"Commander,"/ Joker's voice resounded over the comm above her. /"You got an incoming call."/

Her thin eyebrows lifted up. That was quick.

"Who it's from? The Council?"

/"Actually it's from someone at the Arcturus Station."/

The commander frowned instantly. She would have taken the sign over a call from there. Only two reasons she could think of why someone was calling her from the space station where not only she graduated from the Academy but was the overloaded workplace of one particular individual.

And of all the calls she has gotten since the day she finished training, it was almost always the latter one.

The appalling one.

/"It's a Director-"/

"I already know who," the commander stated calmly, veiling her real strain as she marched to the stairs. "Patch it to the comm room, Joker."

For sure, Shepard anticipated that the pilot on the other end was surprised; little because she cut him short but mostly because she seemed to know who the caller was right away. On the other hand, questioning his superior would perhaps not be the best choice of action, even if that superior was Shepard.

/"Patching it through."/

A wise choice when he obliged to send the call over to the secured room from any eavesdropping outsiders without allowing his curiosity to urge questions out of his mouth. With that, he returned back to the console before him and waited for whatever destination Shepard would pick from the galaxy map.

The commander walked along the way to the Command Deck – although, it was more of a brief rush than a walk. Shepard entered the comm room in haste and turned on the terminal. On screen, the face of a man appeared, middle-aged and sitting formally at his work desk in an office, which also showed a few similarities with that in C-Sec.

/"Hello, Commander Shepard. It's been a while since we talked,"/ the caller greeted. /"Congratulation on being a Spectre, by the way."/

"Hello, Director Boyd. I'm expecting this call has something to do with him?"

/"You know him, Shepard. It's _always_ about him."/

"But of course." She heaved a sigh with a shake of her head. For once, could it not be one that didn't involve _that man_? However, it was but wishful thinking. "What is it this time? It's not another lawyer he pissed off, is it?"

A loud chuckle uttered from his mouth. /"No, no. Of course not. But I specifically recall one of his well-known rules is–"/

"'Don't trust lawyers'," Shepard exclaimed, grinning softly at her remembrance. A clever rule it was to remember at heart if ever she were to cross unsafe paths with money-sucking attorneys. To date, however, that has never happened. "So what is it really?"

She watched as the director gazed at the Sceptre with uncertainty, permitting a pause of silence between them.

"Director?"

/"Well… I did not want to involve you, considering that you probably have assignments to do for the Council. But… it regards a case he's working on."/

"Director, even if I am now a Spectre, I still serve the Alliance. I am happy to help in any way I can," she assured him. "But this is him we're talking about. He is a 'capable' man and he has his team to back him–"

/"That's just it."/

The quiet break persisted as the caller collected his thoughts on how to properly tell her the details. It was a first to Shepard, seeing a superior look anxious. Examining the man on the other end clutching his hands together in a pondering gesture just showed her the case had absolute secrecy and upmost importance. She could tell; only few were engaged in it.

Was it serious?

_No, couldn't be_, she thought, pushing away the growing worry.

The man she knew has done hundreds of case, even thousands since she was a young child. Not one she was told by him has ever proven difficult to him and his team combined.

Why would this one be an exception?

Finally, the director spoke with his regained confidence. /"They were undercover to apprehend a suspect with a connection to a specific illicit group. His team was supposed to get names but their cover was blown. The suspect ran to the Citadel and–"/

"He chased after him." Shepard sighed at the expectation. "And I expect he's not asking help from C-Sec, correct?"

/"Shepard, cooperation between different law enforcement agencies tends to be rocky, especially if the suspect is in someone else's territory."/

"And you want me to go after him?"

/"Yes,"/ said the director. /"I can't send his team over until we have clearance with the executor on this case. And it's proving difficult."/

No doubt he meant Executor Pallin. She had one encounter with the turian in charge of C-Sec, whom right away showed his dislike to both Spectres and humans. And Commander Shepard was a great example to despise – being the first human Spectre in one package. It was no surprise that he was stonewalling a human director to allow entrance for a human working party to walk into the Citadel and conduct their own investigation instead of handing over the case to the turian's division.

"I understand, Director. I can be there soon. But really, we all know him best. Even if his methods are sometimes unorthodox, he can take care of himself–"

/"Shepard, Maverick is trying to catch an assassin. Alone."/

Eyes widened to their fullest. The color immediately drained from her face at the mere mention of two words and a recognizable name put together in that one sentence.

Right on the spot, she wished that the director was lying.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Finished Chapter 1. :) And the suspense is slowly building up. What shall happen next? Well, you'll have to wait to find out. Mind you though, because I am doing some temp job for the weekdays, it might take a while until Chapter 2 is up. For the time being….please pretty please read and review. Please? Please?

Also, details on my Shepard: a full-fledged Paragon, Spacer, War Hero, Infiltrator. And these details are what are important to the challenge I am aiming at for this fanfic.


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